The Broccoli Book

You may be wondering why in the actual hell I'm talking about broccoli on my blog that is all about books. I mean, there are so many other things I could talk about, but yet here you are, reading a post with broccoli in the title. But I pinky promise you: my reasoning is good and valid. Now, you may know broccoli as a certain green, tree-like vegetable that's commonly dipped in ranch or left on plates by children around the world, but it's also the perfect descriptor of a specific kind of book that lacks a name. And so, I bring to you The Broccoli Book.

I recently read an ARC of an upcoming release that's already highly raved about, and when I finished it I found myself in a conundrum: I didn't know how I felt about it. Or, to me more accurate, I didn't know how to describe how I felt about it. The book fell in an odd place on the spectrum of hate to love when it comes to "rating" books: I didn't dislike it, but I didn't exactly like it, either. The problem was that, once I read the last page, I didn't feel much of anything toward the book and hadn't felt a whole lot while reading it, either. There wasn't enough dislike to have me set it aside, but there wasn't enough like to have me thinking about it once it was done. What did I call my feelings about this book? How did I describe them? Then it hit me: broccoli. (Okay, so my first thought was cauliflower, but broccoli seemed like a more sensical choice.)

Broccoli is probably the most stereotypical vegetable. I think so many people--mainly kids?--hate it without even trying it just because it's so universally known as The Vegetable Not to Be Eaten (but to Vehemently Scream About Not Eating). But once you actually try broccoli you may find that it's not so terrible and that all that fuss was for nothing and that you should listen to your elders and eat your damn vegetables (even if the dogs won't touch it).

But here's how broccoli tastes, at least in my opinion: I don't dislike it, but I don't like it, either. (Sound familiar?) If broccoli is for dinner I'll eat it, no problem, but I'm never going to be all, "Ooh, broccoli, yes, GIMME GIMME GIMME!" Broccoli doesn't taste gross, but it's no bacon or chocolate and it doesn't get my taste buds going. It's just broccoli, plain and simple. There's nothing memorable about it--except for maybe its appearance--and I'll eat it but I'll neither enjoy nor hate eating it. Again: it's just broccoli. (No offense, by the way, for those people who do love broccoli. You're probably better at eating veggies than I am.)

And so we now have The Broccoli Book. It's that book that doesn't quite have a place on the reading scale. It doesn't lean toward dislike, but it doesn't lean toward like, either. You don't feel much of anything toward it, and once you turn the last page and set it down the book never really crosses your mind. You read it and that's just about it. Now the book is just there and if someone asks you what you thought of it you don't know what to say because there's no term for it. Like broccoli. (Just don't try eating the book or feeding it to your dog.)

Do you have any Broccoli Books?